Some MH Challenges
by TheCartoonusMaximus
Summary: Contains various pairings, mainly in short story or drabble form. Just some challenges some friends asked me to do.
1. Chapter 1

These were some challenges that my Tumblr buddies suggested to me to try writing yesterday. They seemed to enjoy them, so maybe some of the fans over here will like them too. Feel free to comment if you like, don't know if I'll write any more, though.

August 23, 2014

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**Abbey and Heath: teacher/student au**

Heath sat at his desk, gazing with deep longing at the woman who stood at the front of the classroom. His tongue hung out of his mouth just a bit, but not quite enough to make a spectacle out of himself. He couldn't help it; Ms. Bominable was just oh so sexy...

Ms. Abbey Bominable turned around on her heels, her skirt tightening around her hips just right as she turned her body. Her eyes fell on her student, heath, and she smiled flirtatiously as he blushed.

She finished explaining the homework assignments and walked around the room, returning the graded tests to each of the students at their desks. She didn't even so much as glance at Heath, but there was an extra note at the bottom of his test paper.

_Meet me after class,_ the red letters spelled out.

Heath gaped at the paper in shock, then looked back up at the yeti teacher. His warm eyes met her cold gaze, and he almost fainted dead away when she smiled and winked at him. Something told him that she had a very special lesson in mind to teach him later...

Class ended, and all of the students but Heath filed out of the room, the door being closed and locked behind them by Ms. Bominable. When the janitor passed by later on, he could hear the sounds of muffled moaning and bodies shuffling against one another within the room; closing his eyes and shaking his head, he simply kept right on walking.

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**Operetta and Johnny: partners in crime au**

A shadow moved through the room, heading straight for the bank vault. The shadow was attached to the body of Operetta, wanted cat burglar. Upon reaching the vault, she pulled out her equipment and began to pick the lock.

There was no need to do so, though, she was informed by a voice that interrupted her concentration. The ghostly Johnny Spirit wafted out of the vault, carrying sacks of money under his arms.

He smirked at her, having won their bet of who could steal money the fastest, and she scowled at him. Now she would have to cough up some of her own cash for him, the durn ghost.

* * *

**Frankie and Jackson: meeting at a coffee shop au**

Frankie Stein smiled softly to her colleague as she sipped the warm liquid of espresso from her mug. Her elbows rested on the beige-colored table as she leaned forward, her eyes skimming over the words that were printed neatly on her friend's notebook.

Jackson sat across from her, a half-eaten scone sitting on a plate in front of him beside a tall mug of thick, dark coffee. He was currently using a pencil to point at different words in his notebook, explaining about his notes to Frankie and asking for her opinion.

The two young mad scientists had been doing this for years; they'd go to school, go to work, read things and do experiments, and then they would meet up at the Coffin Bean once a week to discuss everything they'd learned and compare notes. They met for breakfast, always, sitting for nearly two hours and just talking and exchanging notes.

It was pleasurable for the two of them, and it took their minds off of their stressful, individual lives.

Their morning ended with their customary good-byes and Frankie planting a light kiss on Jackson's cheek, both of them blushing just a bit. Their feelings for one another may have gone deeper than just those of friends and colleagues, but neither one could ever be certain of what they were feeling. And for now, that was okay - who needed romance and sexual tension to ruin a good friendship?

* * *

**Operetta and Johnny: student/teacher au**

Professor Spirit cocked his head, listening as his music class student worked hard at playing the violin. She wasn't perfect at it - her fingers were better suited to the pipe organ - but she wasn't exactly terrible. He'd heard worse. Much worse.

But, Operetta needed some help with her positioning. He told her so and the young lady pouted, glaring daggers at her instructor. Ignoring the angry look on her face, he moved to stand behind her, his arms wrapping around her and clasping each of her wrists, moving her arms just to bit into a more proper pose.

He didn't remove his hands from where they held her though, and he tilted his head, his nostrils filling with the scent of her shampoo. She smelled of lavender and nightshade, and it was a pleasing aroma.

She whispered his name as a question, and giggled when he pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her neck - a friendly kiss, nothing more. He stepped away then, reminding her that music was fun and that she should smile more while playing, and requesting her to take it from the top once more. She smiled to him brightly, and soon lovely music filled the hall once more.

* * *

**Cleo and Deuce: roommates au**

Boxes sat everywhere, mostly unopened, filling the small apartment almost to capacity. Deuce frowned as he looked around at all the boxes; it was his apartment, and he was struggling to pay the rent. So, he'd asked around for a roommate.

What he'd gotten was a princess out of place and out of time. Her name was Cleo - she was rich and beautiful, but she was so haughty. She acted as if the entire world revolved around her. Deuce immediately had to lay down some rules: her stuff stayed in her room, his stuff stayed in his room, and the only possessions allowed into the other rooms were never to be touched or thrown away by either party; the kitchen was his, she would not touch it.

Cleo had rolled her eyes. She had been kicked out of the palace after the death of her father; her sister had been made queen, and her first act in office was to remove the younger princess. Cleo had only accepted the offer of roommate out of desperation, not knowing where else to go or what to do.

These words all came spilling out of her a few nights later, when Deuce came home from work to find her crying on her bed. He felt sorry for her and hugged her, holding her while she cried and let out all her fears and confusion.

Afterwards, he brought her into the kitchen. He taught her to make hot cocoa from scratch (not at all like the powdery stuff she bought from the store) and also gave her some of his homemade cookies. She wasn't actually that bad at making the cocoa, once she learned how to measure the ingredients, and she actually looked sort of sexy holding a mixing bowl, half of a cookie sticking out of her mouth.

Deuce continued watching her for a moment, and was surprised when she suddenly turned and kissed him, her lips tasting like chocolate. She thanked him for his kindness and hurried from his kitchen, blushing.

Deuce smiled; this princess might not make a bad roommate after all.

* * *

**Iris and Manny: writer and editor au**

Miss Clops, local journalist, handed her latest article in to the editor. While she could often be nervous around most people, even those she was interviewing, she was never nervous around Mr. Taur. She and Manny had grown up together, their parents being good friends, and had helped one another get through journalism school. He was the one person she was ever comfortable around.

Manny smiled at Iris when she entered his office; she looked especially pretty today, wearing a bright red blouse and nice skirt and heels. She had been out on interviews all morning, though, and looked plenty tired.

He told her to sit down in the spare chair in his office, ordering her to rest and not taking 'no' for an answer. He went through her papers, revising them as he saw fit and making comments to her, while she only half-listened and nodded in agreement.

After awhile, he told her to take the afternoon off, promising to meet her for dinner later. She beamed when he mentioned her favorite restaurant and getting ice cream afterwards. It was her birthday, and it was nice to know that he hadn't forgotten.

* * *

**Spectra and Invisibilly: soulmates au**

There was a small spark in between them as they held hands with one another. While the two strangers had only meant to pass one another by on the street, their bodies had disagreed; their hands, instead of merely brushing against one another briefly, had suddenly reached out and grasped the other, fingers entwining together.

Spectra and the boy called Invisibilly both stared up at one another, wondering what this feeling was. They had never met, had never seen one another before, didn't know one another's names yet, but it felt as if they'd known one another for centuries. Their hearts fluttered and pulsed at odd rates, reacting to the appearance of the other.

Perhaps... Perhaps they were meant for one another. Soulmates. The hearts and spirits of two individuals entwined in life, just as their fingers were currently entwined together. Just perhaps.

* * *

**Rochelle and Garrot: childhood best friends au**

A long time ago, two little gargoyles would play along the terraces of the great Notre Dame cathedral. They were young children, and were always seen and smiled at by kind passers-by.

She wanted to be a dancer, little Rochelle told her best friend, a happy little giggle in her voice, but she would fall and land flat on her back.

Garrot would help her up, telling her that, someday, she'd be loveliest ballerina in the entire world, and she would giggle as he kissed away her injuries.

Those days are gone and long since past, but they are there to this day. Rochelle poses as a ballerina, pretending to dance although she does not move, while Garrot paints lovely pictures of her for them to sell on the market.

Everyone who sees the pictures oohs and ahhs, swearing that Rochelle is the most beautiful dancer they've ever seen. Rochelle always laughs; she is but the artist's muse, not a dancer, although he sees her as one.

Garrot only smiles and kisses her, telling her again and again how lovely she is to him. No more are they only best friends - they also lovers. Rochelle calls herself his muse, while Garrot calls her a dancer, and they both laugh about it, remembering days gone by.

In the evening, as the sun sets over the cathedral, Rochelle will try dancing again, and Garrot will be there to catch her when she falls.

* * *

**Rochelle and Garrot: roommates au**

Rochelle came out of her shower to find Garrot in the kitchen making Eggs Benedict. A soft smile drew across her face as she closed up her robe and moved to join him, her arms wrapping around his waist and her lips brushing against his neck and shoulder. Garrot smiled, turning and kissing her lips himself, wrapping one of his own arms around her waist and squeezing for a brief moment.

They had started out as simply roommates, two young gargoyles who had come to America from France and started up college. They had both been very different from one another, what with Garrot being a poet and an artist and Rochelle being a roller skater and a racer, but they'd had something in common: they could both speak French. And it was so much easier to discuss living arrangements in fluent French with someone else than in broken English with someone who didn't speak a lick of the Romance language.

So, the gargoyles who'd come in on the same plane together decided to work together to rent an apartment. But, over the course of the past couple of months, the two had become more than just roommates. They were friends, they were lovers, they were an artist and a muse.

Rochelle moved away from her beau, pouring orange juice for the two of them, sipping at it as Garrot brought the eggs over to the table. It was a good way to start the morning, especially for the two French gargoyles.


	2. Chapter 2

**I wrote this back in September. I was doing a writing challenge and a friends asked for a master/slave AU with Clawd and Draculaura, and this is what I put together.**

**At first I was going to write Draculaura as a member of royalty with Clawd (and other werewolves) as her slave, but I decided that was too obvious and wanted to switch the roles instead. So here we are.**

**I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did.**

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Strong, hairy hands brushed the tent openings aside, giving way to the wolfish figure who stepped out of the chief's tent. The figure was that of a warrior, and more specifically it was the chief's son, Clawd. Tall, handsome, and incredibly lethal.

He eyed his warrior brother who was standing sentry at the village gates, watching over the surrounding land.

Clawd moved to stand beside his older brother, Rocky, crossing his arms over his chest. "What news?"

"Slave caravan passing through. Probably going to try leaving their sick nearby."

Clawd frowned. "Maybe I should go hurry them on their way. Last thing we need on our territory is dying slaves."

"Let it alone, Clawd," the older one advised. "The traders know better than to leave their wares on the Wolf's territory. Let them dispose of their belongings as they wish and not start a fight."

Turning on his heel, Rocky headed back inside the gates, clapping his brother on the shoulder. "Keep watch, brother."

"I will."

Hours passed as Clawd stood guard at the front gates of his tribe's village. He saw the caravan leave and he himself turned the other way, keeping himself in check – the son of the chief needed to set an example, not get into needless fights.

As the time wore on, Clawd became aware of a small figure approaching, the scent of vampire filling his nostrils. He stood his ground and waited, unsure of what to expect.

When the vampire reached him, it wasn't at all what he'd expected: the blood-drinker was cuffed and shackled, barely able to move her petite, malnourished frame with the heavy slave chains that held her. She was coughing blood, and between that and her sunken eyes and rasping breath she seemed to be very, very sick.

She looked up at him pleadingly, begging him in a language he didn't understand. That's okay. 'Help' is a universal language.

Calling to Clawnor, Clawd picked the vampire up in his arms, carrying the blood-drinker into the village.

MH

Clawd wasn't sure what he'd been thinking, taking in the sick vampire slave. If anything, he should have left her to die, considering the relations between their people. But, he didn't.

Clawdeen had helped him care for the small vampire as he worked on nursing her back to health over the next couple of weeks. She'd gotten irritated with her brother constantly saying "the vampire" though, and had insisted in knowing the slave's name.

"Clawdeen," she said, putting her fist to her chest. She hit her fist lightly against her brother's chest. "Clawd."

The vampire slave, now feeling better and maintaining a pink palor around the face, gestured to herself. "Draculaura."

Clawd's sister looked so snide as she grinned at him. "Well, now we know her name."

What did Clawd care? It was just a slave, and a vampire to boot. How was its name of any importance?

MH

He kept her around for some reason. He became known in the tribe as "the chief's son with the blood-drinker slave."

He didn't care. So long as she knew her place, it didn't matter.

She was learning to speak his language, though right now she could understand it better than speak it. She seemed to take particular delight in using his name, though.

"Clawd!" she'd say happily when returned to his tent after his duties, and she'd jump up from mending his clothes to rush to greet him. It was odd how… puppy-ish… she seemed at times.

He allowed himself a small smile of amusement as he pulled her into his lap, petting her hair gently. She was an odd one, this Draculaura.

MH

"He cared for me," she said softly, trying to form the words around her accent. Months had passed. The slave had gotten much better at speaking in the language Clawd's people spoke.

The tribe had heard word that the vampire lord Dracula was dead. The slave girl had become upset upon hearing the news, and Clawd had wanted to know why.

"My parents were slaves of his," she continued. "He treated he as his own daughter when they died. Until I was taken in a raid and sold away…"

Clawd frowned. The blood-drinker was his slave, nothing more. Surely he felt nothing for her.

So why was he suddenly holding her and trying to comfort her and dry her tears?

MH

The years went by, almost all too quickly. Clawd's father passed on to the next world and the oldest child became the tribe's chief. Clawd grew as a warrior and was now renowned over the land for his strength and cunning.

He lay on the bed in his tent, the petite vampire beside him. No longer his slave, his mate slept with a sweet smile gracing her delicate face, her middle oddly round.

Clawd's lips pulled back in a small smile as he allowed himself to touch her abdomen, feeling energetic kicking from beneath the skin.

He thanked all of the known spirits and gods that he hadn't turned away the unwanted slave girl not so very long ago; if he had, he wouldn't be here now, content with his very wanted little mate.


End file.
